Sweet Lysander Part One Thick as Thieves
by Gloria B
Summary: Draco looked as he always used to. Manicured, expensive, handsome--in that pale, pointed sort of way. "You've been practicing," Luna remarked, her knowing eyes belying the bland smile she offered him. And just like that, it slipped.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Sweet Lysander Part One Thick as Thieves  
**Chapter Title**: I  
**Summary**: Draco looked as he always used to. Manicured, expensive, handsome--in that pale, pointed sort of way. "You've been practicing," Luna remarked, her knowing eyes belying the bland smile she offered him. And just like that, it slipped.  
**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also do not own Natalie Merchant or her works; my quoting of her lyrics is to enrich the fanfiction but not to profit by it.  
**Pairing**: Draco/Luna; Eventual Draco/Astoria and Rolf/Luna  
**Spoiler Warning**: I base everything in this story, to the best of my ability, to strict canon facts—and also what Rowling has mentioned in interviews about life after the books for the HP characters. Draco and Luna's somewhat love story is creative license, but I believe entirely plausible.

**Alternate Warnings**: Rating T is for swearing and eventual adult sexual situations. Also contains characters dealing with serious subjects like torture, death and grief, so standard angst warnings apply.

**Author's Note**: Hi readers! I wrote Part One of Sweet Lysander some six months ago and then began something else. I'm back to it now, if only just to begin posting it, and should continue on with Parts Two and Three sometime early next year. I write each part as one length, and then divide them later into different 'sections' or chapters. So if the segments seem abrupt, I apologize. I was experimenting with a different style of formatting the story.

I understand that pairing Draco and Luna seems odd at first, but after taking into consideration Luna's time spent at Malfoy Manor, probable politics surrounding the Malfoy family and The Great Trials that surely came after the immediate ending of Book Seven, and Luna's interesting nature, I began thinking that it would just be _fascinating _to pair them up. It was also very important to me to try and keep everything canon. So, assuredly, this love story is going to have a rather sad ending, because they end up marrying different people. But I wanted to play with the meat of time between the end of Deathly Hallows and its Epilogue, and try to spin something new.

The entire story of Sweet Lysander was inspired by the Ophelia album by Natalie Merchant, and I have chosen one song for each part where the lyrics will guide us through the story. There will be some disturbing flashbacks to Luna's time spent at Malfoy Manor, and there will also be journal entries written in Luna's first person. So the narrative will jump stylistically, which I hope will serve to enrich the flow of the story. Harry and the gang play big, big parts in this story, so they too will often show up. I enjoy, immensely, writing Harry and Luna together. I also enjoy writing Ron and Xenophilius, so whenever I can have an excuse to bring them in, I will do it.

Beta credit goes to the wonderful and fabulous Doumi, without whom this story would not have, quite literally, seen the light of day. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for all your help.

And thank you for reading.

Yours,

Gloria

Sweet Lysander

**Part One**

"**Thick as Thieves****"**

**I**

"I do very much think that Unicorns are beautiful. Yet, for all their beauty, I find them to be disturbingly arrogant. They look at you with smug black eyes and toss their silvery manes all around...

"I prefer the humble severity of Thestrals.

"When they see you, they really aren't concerned about the way they look to you. They see you noticing them and they seem sad that you can see them at all. They appear to know, in some sense, what you sacrificed to behold them, and they respect that with such gravity.

"I wonder, sometimes, if they are glad to be seen at all. Or if they would rather be invisible to everyone. Because, then...then they would know that the children they tote into the castle every year have never had to bear witness to the death of a loved one.

"A bitter sacrifice, for the Thestrals, I think. To rather be ignored, unseen.

"Many students became aware of Thestrals my Seventh Year. And I watched the Thestrals become very, very dismal indeed."

~ Excerpt from the Diary of Luna Lovegood

***

_Remember how it all began  
The apple and the fall of man  
The price we paid  
_

_So the people say  
_

***

The day after the fall of Lord Voldemort dawned wet and grey. Storm clouds rumbled to the west and the once-lush landscape surrounding Hogwarts Castle was muddy, sodden, and smoking in areas where the fires still hadn't been put out.

Luna Lovegood faced away from it all. She stood at the border of the Forbidden Forest, her back to the castle, and her bare feet sinking into the moist soil. Luna heard the snap of a twig behind her and whirled about, her wand clutched tightly in her right hand and pointed at the intruder.

Harry Potter paused, giving Luna a moment to recognize him, and offered her a sleepy smile. They were all still a little on edge. Luna blinked and lowered her wand. She watched him with wide eyes as he came to stand beside her before turning back to the darkness of the forest.

"Couldn't sleep?" Luna asked, her usually dreamy voice a little higher than usual. She breathed in deeply through her nose to calm her racing heartbeat.

Harry shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Just so used to not sleeping, I guess. You?"

Luna glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Harry looked disheveled to the point of haggard, but the line of his shoulders was different than she had ever seen them. Softer, more relaxed. Luna took in another breath and let it out slowly. If Harry truly believed it was all over, then she could too.

"Yes," Luna answered belatedly. A comfortable silence fell between them as they stared at nothing, the sun rising at their backs, the thunderheads making ready to wash the last of the battle-smoke away.

"Thank you," Harry said, his deep voice breaking through the quiet, "for yesterday morning."

Luna smiled her small smile, glancing at him sidelong again. "Yes; sometimes it is good to have a few moments alone with an old friend."

Harry sent her a startled glance. "You knew?"

Luna shrugged and dug her big toe further into the wet earth beneath her. "People are somewhat less mysterious than they think they are."

For some reason, Harry beamed at her then, a warmth in his smile that coaxed a smile from Luna as well. "I'll remember that," he said.

"What will you do now?" Luna asked, her voice soft, lilting, almost the way it normally was...before the war made it strained.

Harry chewed on his lower lip and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "There's still a lot of work to do," Harry answered quietly. A moment passed. "And, if I want to build a future here...I'm going to make sure they do it right this time."

Luna studied him for a moment. "Ginny will like that. She will want to play Quidditch."

Harry jumped a little and turned red, his brilliant green eyes moving to meet her searching gaze. "Yes...I don't know." Harry paused, glanced away, and looked back at her. "Yes."

"I think you'll make a wonderful Auror," Luna remarked, lifting her gaze away from him to stare off into a place where Harry had never quite been able to follow.

"Luna..."

"Nargels didn't take my shoes this time," Luna stated matter-of-factly, as if they hadn't almost breached a conversation that bordered on intimate, on 'what if', on maybe. She looked down at her feet before pointing somewhere to her left. "I took them off over there."

Harry seemed at a loss as his eyes followed the direction of her pointing finger and returned to her face. He could barely make out her features in the shadows. "What will you do? Will you come back for your Seventh Year?"

Luna didn't answer right away. "Yes," she said. "I think I'll go visit my father for the summer. He must be terribly lonely."

Something shifted in Harry's expression. It flickered over his features too quickly to name. If Luna noticed, she said nothing.

"I spoke with Kingsley this morning," Harry said. "Your father has been released from Azkaban." Harry produced a knapsack and handed it to her. "Here," Harry said, his voice thick with some indiscernible emotion. At Luna's questioning look, Harry said: "It's a tent."

It could have been a play of light and shadow, but Harry could have sworn he saw something in Luna's shoulders sag. "Thank you," Luna murmured, taking the pack. She was quiet a moment before saying: "I think I'll leave today."

It wasn't much longer before Luna went to collect her shoes and return to the castle. With a heavy heart, Harry watched her go. Something hard and cold pressed against the palm of his hand and Harry glanced down to see the bony head of an adult Thestral alerting him to his presence. The Thestral stood where Luna had only moments before and kept Harry company as Luna disappeared into the fog.

***

_Down a path of shame it lead us  
Dared to bite the hand that fed us_

_  
The fairy tale  
The moral end_

_  
The wheel of fortune  
Never turns again _

_***_

Luna arrived home the following day; at least, what was left of it. She stopped in front of the massive heap of rubble and ash that used to be her father's house and fingered the knapsack Harry had given her the day before. Suppressing the hearty sigh that bubbled up despairingly in her chest, she dropped the knapsack to the ground, followed by the small suitcase that held her belongings and went to look for her father.

She found him by the river.

Well, not precisely a river, in the strictest sense. Perhaps more of a stream that trickled gurgling water around the border of their land, once clear and bright, but now murky with the permeating ash from the burned house in front of it. Even Bottom Bridge seemed darker, tired under the strain of being what it was against such a harsh landscape. Xenophilius Lovegood sat, smoking a pipe, at the edge of the bend about twenty meters behind the rubble.

"Hello, Daddy," Luna murmured, coming to stand next to him. Xenophilius did not respond.

He was filthy, and Luna could smell his rank from where she stood. Luna looked down and noted that beyond her matted and rumpled father, there was a space of bent grass that was worn and scraggled down to its pale brown roots. He must have been sleeping here too.

This time she did sigh, and it sounded strange even to her own ears. Luna Lovegood did not often give in to moments of exasperation.

Luna went back around the once-house and picked up the knapsack Harry had given her. It took her an hour to figure out how to properly assemble it, but when her task was completed, Luna found it a satisfactory abode for her and her father for the next few months. The magical tent had two rooms complete with bunks and separated from the living area by thick drapes. The foyer had a loveseat of deep amber and a cherry wood rocking chair. There was even a small kitchenette with cupboards and a cauldron.

She rummaged around the bathroom and found a bar of soap and a washcloth. She also found a large towel and a bathrobe, and smiled at the Gryffindor emblems embroidered in the thick red and gold fabric. Bundling these items in her arms, she left the tent and returned to where her father was still crouched by the stream, puffing madly at his pipe and staring with unseeing eyes at the horizon.

Luna set the items at the edge of the creek and walked around her father. "Daddy?" Still, Xenophilius ignored his daughter. Luna bit her lip and thoughtfully fingered the Dirigible Plum hanging from her left earlobe. "Alright," she murmured finally.

Luna bent low and cupped her hands under her father's arms, holding her breath against the stink emanating from him, and heaved. With a startling splash and much sputtering, Xenophilius toppled into the stream, nearly dragging his daughter with him.

Sopping wet, Xenophilius stared at his daughter gazing serenely back at him from the edge of the shallow stream.

"Do you need help, Daddy?" Luna asked, her voice soft but serious, even a little compassionate.

Xenophilius dragged his eyes over to the bundle of toiletries and then back to her. Finally, he shook his head mutely and Luna nodded before walking back to their tent.

An hour later, Xenophilius emerged from his forced bath clean, if not a little comically dressed in his too-tight Gryffindor robe. His eyes darted around the tent as he clenched at the amulet hanging around his neck until he spotted his daughter, curled in a corner and compiling a list of things on a scrap of parchment.

Luna paused at long last and looked up at him. At his questioning look, she said: "I'll get you new clothes when I go into town for lumber."

Xenophilius frowned.

Luna shrugged. "Well, I can't very well leave you to sleep outside when I go back to Hogwarts."

"No." It was barely a word, really; more a croak than anything else. A single note pushed through a throat left long unused.

"Daddy, the war is over. It's safe now."

That's what they said last time.

Xenophilius didn't have to say it. Luna didn't even have to be alive for the first war to know that's what her father was thinking. Back when he didn't have a little girl to worry for, back when things were a little simpler, and hiding away was a little easier. When existing didn't seem to matter as much. They said its safe now. Everything will be alright. You-Know-Who is dead and gone.

That's what they said last time.

Things were different now. Luna was everything to him. And he almost lost her to the Dark Lord. And Xenophilius Lovegood nearly lost everything he considered right and good and honorable to get her back. Dirigible Plums and Nargels and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks be damned, he wasn't going to let that happen again.

"It won't," Luna said, reading the anxiety in his face like an open book. "Harry won't--"

Xenophilius froze at the boy's name, worrying savagely at his lower lip with his teeth.

Luna frowned then, unsure of her father's reaction. After a moment, she un-tucked her legs and stood. "Well, I will not leave you to sleep in a field and I am going back for my seventh year. You should dig up the Dirigible Plums from behind the house to keep the Nargels from getting into our tent at night." She paused. "I'll pick up some equipment for you to write an article for the _Quibbler_. It's time you took credit for the Deathly Hallows, Daddy. You always knew, right? Harry said he'd found out from--"

Xenophilius began to sob furiously and the old man collapsed to the ground. Luna rushed to his side, perplexed and twice as unsettled as before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Sweet Lysander Part One Thick as Thieves  
**Chapter Title**: II  
**Summary**: Draco looked as he always used to. Manicured, expensive, handsome--in that pale, pointed sort of way. "You've been practicing," Luna remarked, her knowing eyes belying the bland smile she offered him. And just like that, it slipped.  
**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also do not own Natalie Merchant or her works; my quoting of her lyrics is to enrich the fanfiction but not to profit by it.  
**Pairing**: Draco/Luna; Eventual Draco/Astoria and Rolf/Luna  
**Spoiler Warning**: I base everything in this story, to the best of my ability, to strict canon facts—and also what Rowling has mentioned in interviews about life after the books for the HP characters. Draco and Luna's somewhat love story is creative license, but I believe entirely plausible.

**Alternate Warnings**: Rating T is for swearing and eventual adult sexual situations. Also contains characters dealing with serious subjects like torture, death and grief, so standard angst warnings apply.

**Author's Note**: Thank you for reading.

Sweet Lysander

**Part One**

"**Thick as Thieves****"**

**II**

_The worst of it has come and gone  
In the chaos of millennium_

_In the falling out _

_Of the doomsday crowd_

_***_

Over the next month, Xenophilius adamantly refused to write a single article for the _Quibbler_. Concerned that it might lose roots in the Wizarding World during the Great Trials, Luna took up the mantle as editor-in-chief so that the newsletter would still be profitable when her father wished to return to it.

Despite herself, Luna was surprised at how well her first article, centered on the story of the Deathly Hallows, did. The _Quibbler _outsold the_ Daily Prophet _for an entire week after it was published, earning her the funds to purchase enough lumber to rebuild her father's house before she went back to school in the fall.

After being outsold, the _Daily Prophet _sent a messenger three times a week asking Luna to do coverage on the Great Trials at the Ministry for them, but Luna refused and went back to work.

Harry was too busy at the Ministry of Magic to come by often, but Ron Weasley and his brother, George, came over regularly to help with the heavy lifting and the grunt labor. And while Xenophilius Lovegood sat and stared and puffed on his pipe, the Weasley brothers told Luna about how they're going to re-open Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in September and get it back on its feet. Luna would smile and serve chilled pumpkin juice with nails holding up her long, pale hair and sawdust smeared on her cheek. And she would try her very hardest to not look too deeply in their eyes and stare at the pain and grief that still hung like a raw wound around them both. Because Fred was gone. Like so many. Like too many.

Luna lost her home. And, at one point, her freedom. These boys lost their brother; and that was worse. But they didn't speak of it. How could they? What could they possibly say?

Luna Lovegood was moved to tears the second week in July. All thoughts of anxiety about finishing the house on time dissipated when Dean Thomas arrived with Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Angelina Johnson and Hannah Abbott, along with half a dozen other former Hogwarts students.

"Sorry it took us so long," Dean had told Luna as George and Ron welcomed the newcomers and gave them assignments. "There've been many houses to rebuild."

"I'm grateful," Luna had replied, moving to hide the shine in her eyes behind her hair.

Away from them all, Xenophilius gripped his amulet tighter and disappeared into his tent.

"Kingsley's put in a motion for the Dementors to be removed from Azkaban and sent away," Seamus told them later.

"Good," Ron had replied. "That's good."

"Nasty buggers," Dean agreed.

"Ron," Angelina said abruptly. "Harry's trying to get Draco and his mum acquitted. Why?"

Dean scowled and narrowed his eyes when he saw Luna become very still, her hammer pausing mid-air as she listened.

Color stained Ron's freckled skin and crawled up his neck. "Narcissa saved Harry's life in the Forbidden Forest," Ron said slowly. "As for Draco...he's a nasty cuss..." Ron shrugged. "Every story has two sides, I guess."

"If Lucius Malfoy gets acquitted too, I'll kill him myself," Dean snarled suddenly. "Mark me."

Everyone paused, startled into silence, and stared at Dean; but Dean looked only at Luna, who gazed back at him calmly. Finally, Dean turned on his heel and strode away to the creek to compose himself.

The following day, Luna accepted the _Daily Prophet's _offer to write _Quibbler_ articles on the Great Trials at the Ministry of Magic.

***

_Their last retreat is moving slow  
They burn their bridges as they go  
The heretic is beautified_

_  
He'll teach the harlot's child to smile _

_***_

Luna knew parts of the Ministry of Magic better than perhaps she ought to have. However, when Dumbledore's Army had first formed, and the mad dash for the Prophecy and the resulting chaos exploded all around them, Luna found that familiarizing herself with hidden halls and unknown walkways had become slightly necessary. She used that knowledge now, avoiding crowds and picket lines and grim-faced jurors.

"Kingsley, I'm telling you, half of these people would be better off _out _of prison!"

Luna paused; then smiled. She knew that voice.

"I don't know how your argument is going to hold up in the Wizengamot, Harry. There is sufficient evidence that they were active participants--"

"Because their _parents _told them to!"

"They were old enough to understand the consequences of their actions."

"I disagree. Even I, in a million years, could never have predicted or fully comprehended the results of half the things I did in that war. Or what it would cost me, Kingsley. There are at least a dozen people on this list who are no older than I. It's hardly fair to hold them to the same standard--"

"As you?"

A pause. "That's not fair either, Kingsley. And you know it."

Luna turned the corner and spotted them at the end of the hall.

"Harry, I'm just trying to explain to you that the Wizengamot will look at all the great and brave things you and your friends did and it will raise the question of why these others were incapable of doing the same. And why, in fact, they chose to actively retaliate and fight for Voldemort."

"Most of them were so used to school adversity that it only seemed like the next step up." Harry's voice was quiet now, thoughtful and filled with regret. "Prejudice, pre-designed hate...and no one at Hogwarts is innocent of that." Harry hesitated. "Except for a few."

"Like your mother," Kingsley said. His voice had become quiet too.

"And Ginny." A pause. "And Luna. I've never seen her be cruel to anyone."

Kingsley sighed. "Harry, I understand what you're saying. But, even if they were just mistakes made by a foolhardy teenager, _these_ are grave mistakes that even teenagers are sent to prison for. Hate-crimes, murder--"

Harry raised his chin. "It's not murder if it's during combat."

Kingsley frowned at him. "You weren't saying that after Bellatrix killed your godfather."

Harry licked his lips and studied his hands. "That's true. But that doesn't mean I was right then. Only that I was grieving. Sending these young people to prison for twenty, forty years is only going to breed more hate. Even if there are no more Dementors."

But Kingsley Shacklebolt, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, didn't respond. He had spotted Luna and fallen silent. Harry turned and a look of surprise flickered across his handsome face. "Luna," he greeted, beckoning her closer. "Hi."

Luna smiled at him and then looked up at the Minister. The dark man eyed her press pass and his lips thinned in barely suppressed distaste. Luna continued to smile, unfazed.

"Minister," Harry said formally, seeming off-balance but determined. Luna somehow always has that effect on him. "Surely you remember Luna Lovegood. An active member of the DA since its beginning--"

"Charmed," Kingsley said, shifting in his robes. He began to feel disturbed by the girl's fixed, almost blank-faced smile. "Forgive me, but I have somewhere to be. Harry, Percy will come fetch you for the Wizengamot this afternoon."

With that, Kingsley took his leave, disappearing quickly down the hall and leaving the two friends alone. Luna turned her blank smile on Harry. Her eyes twinkled and her cheek dimpled; and Harry was left with the distinct feeling that she had unsettled the Minister of Magic on purpose.

Harry reached out and lifted Luna's press pass with his finger tips before letting his hand drop. "Odd," was all he said, before he offered her a smile and his arm. "Walk with me, Luna. What brings you to the Ministry?"

"Observing," Luna replied evasively. Then she took Harry's arm and leaned in conspiratorially. "I hear the Fragmites are plaguing the Department of Mysteries."

Harry allowed himself a small laugh as they began a steady stroll. "The what?"

"Fragmites," Luna repeated solemnly. "I came to make sure the infestation didn't leak into the Wizengamot."

Harry was quiet for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thought about that. "You want inside?"

"Hermione's in Australia?" Luna inquired.

"Yes, checking on her parents. Luna, you want inside the Wizengamot?"

Luna shrugged. "I want to interview the Malfoys." She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Harry stopped and pulled her to one side of the hallway. Speaking in a hushed voice, he said: "Luna, what are you on about? They're on lock-down. No one but their attorneys can see them. They--why? _Why_ do you want to see them?"

Luna didn't answer. She didn't even bother to smile. She just stared back at him and waited. Eventually, Harry sighed. This was Luna being stubborn. "I can't promise you anything, Luna. They're...the Wizengamot is viewing their case today. No, they're not being tried yet; the Ministry just hasn't decided where to keep them until their trial. There's a big fuss because there's not enough room here, and Azkaban's already full with the worst of the lot...and with the Dementors leaving..." Harry shook his head. "I can introduce you to Phyllis Mackle. She's one of the Malfoy attorneys. It'll be up to you from there. Okay?"

Luna nodded slowly, the steel leaving her eyes as Harry released her arm.

Harry shifted from one foot to the other and buried his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I figure I owe you, anyway," Harry said, glancing around him. "For not putting any factual evidence of where the Hallows are now in your article."

Luna smiled dreamily and seemed to straighten a bit, as if she had been cringing before and neither of them had really even noticed. "I don't have the foggiest idea of what you're talking about, Harry. Everything the Quibbler says is true."

"Or controlled lunacy," Harry said with a grin.

Three years ago, Luna would have silently taken offense to a comment like that. But it was Harry and he was her friend; and that was enough.

Luna was admitted into the Wizengamot later that afternoon. Percy Weasley had come and chaperoned her inside. He instructed her to sit beside a plump, middle-aged witch with graying brown hair and a shrewd glance, before leaving her.

The process was long and somewhat arduous, the deciding of the holding fate of the Malfoys. After two hours, it seemed like the majority of the jurors and judges were in favor of sending the entire family to Azkaban.

Abruptly, there was some commotion near the Minister where Kingsley Shacklebolt was engaged in a heated discussion with someone to his right. Suddenly, a young man stood and made his way down to the center of the circle. Kingsley tried to grab him but missed and slumped in his chair in defeat as everyone recognized the young man as Harry Potter.

Harry waited for the soft roar of murmurs and whispers to quiet to a hush throughout the Wizengamot before speaking. His green-eyed glare bordered on contempt for the Wizards and Witches surrounding him and his chin was fixed in a defiant fashion.

"Narcissa Malfoy saved my life."

His voice echoed loudly off the walls of Wizengamot and everyone seemed to shift in their seats uncomfortably. "Or had you forgotten?"

"She housed the Dark Lord in her home during his reign of terror," someone shouted.

Harry turned towards the voice. "And that is a judgment better left for the trial they have yet to be given," Harry reminded.

Luna watched Harry in awe as more accusations and arguments were shouted down to him and he responded in kind, every reply shutting down the thread almost instantly. Luna had seen him in battle, watched him face dark magic when he was barely a teenager. However, that was nothing to the display of power and maturity he showed now as he faced down the Wizengamot on Narcissa and Draco Malfoy's behalf. Harry reminded Luna of Dumbledore, and she watched as dozens of other Wizards and Witches began having the same realization.

Right as the Wizengamot began to quiet, someone hollered: "Draco Malfoy is responsible for the death of Albus Dumbledore, or had _you_ forgotten?"

Harry whirled around, his furious gaze searching out the source of the voice. Anyone whom his eyes landed on cringed back.

"Wrong! _Voldemort_ is responsible for the death of Albus Dumbledore! I was there, Wizards! I saw Draco lower his wand! He had disarmed Dumbledore and nothing was there to prevent him from dealing the final blow. But he _didn't! _He lowered his wand! Despite death-threats on his mother and father, _he lowered his wand!_" Harry sucked in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly. "Whatever fragment of a conscience stopped Draco from killing Dumbledore will be ravaged from him and sucked dry if you send him to Azkaban." Harry paused. "It could flourish under proper care. And Narcissa...she just wants her son to be safe. To see her boy again was why she lied to Voldemort on my behalf."

"Lucius Malfoy is a known--and convicted--menace and threat to society," someone called.

"Yes," Harry conceded. "And do justice here, Wizengamot. For the safety of all. Just...don't condemn the wife and son for the sins of Lucius Malfoy before they get their rightful due process. Neither of them are a threat to anyone without the influence of Lucius Malfoy, or Voldemort...whom I have already dispatched." Harry offered a crooked grin after a moment's pause which won him a rumble of laughter from those assembled.

"Instead of Azkaban," Kingsley called, having at some point decided to sit straighter in his chair. "Where do you propose we send them, Harry Potter?"

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it. He turned, his green eyes seeking, and finding, Luna's. "Hogwarts," he said finally. "The castle needs a lot of reconstruction. Send them there. Call it..." Harry Potter's teeth flashed white in a private grin. "Community service."

As murmurs of agreement filled the air, Kingsley leaned forward. "All in favor?"

The vote was nearly unanimous. "I hereby announce that the communications amendment has been lifted from the confinement strictures of Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco Malfoy. They will, henceforth, reside in Hogwarts Castle and perform any such tasks as the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry require of them. They will remain in the direct custody of one or more staff members or staff appointed Prefects at all times and will offer up their wands when in periods of disuse voluntarily. Until such time as they are called to the Wizengamot for due process. As for Lucius Malfoy, he will continue to reside in solitary confinement within the strictures of Azkaban Prison until such time as the Wizengamot calls him for due process." Kingsley slammed his hammer down, and with the resounding_ thwack_, every Wizard and Witch rose, stretched their backs, and made for the door.

The plump, shrewd-faced Witch sitting next to Luna leaned over to her and said: "You are Luna Lovegood?"

"I am," Luna responded.

"Phyllis Mackle," the Witch introduced herself and stood. "Come with me. You can tell them the news yourself."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Sweet Lysander Part One Thick as Thieves  
**Chapter Title**: III  
**Summary**: Draco looked as he always used to. Manicured, expensive, handsome--in that pale, pointed sort of way. "You've been practicing," Luna remarked, her knowing eyes belying the bland smile she offered him. And just like that, it slipped.  
**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also do not own Natalie Merchant or her works; my quoting of her lyrics is to enrich the fanfiction but not to profit by it.  
**Pairing**: Draco/Luna; Eventual Draco/Astoria and Rolf/Luna  
**Spoiler Warning**: I base everything in this story, to the best of my ability, to strict canon facts—and also what Rowling has mentioned in interviews about life after the books for the HP characters. Draco and Luna's somewhat love story is creative license, but I believe entirely plausible.

**Alternate Warnings**: Rating T is for swearing and eventual adult sexual situations. Also contains characters dealing with serious subjects like torture, death and grief, so standard angst warnings apply.

**Author's Note**: Thank you for reading.

Sweet Lysander

**Part One**

"**Thick as Thieves****"**

**III**

_Wracked again by indecision  
Should we make that small incision_

_  
Testify to the bleeding heart inside? _

_***_

For all her knowledge of the inner structures of the Ministry of Magic, Luna had no idea that there were so many living quarters hidden within the deeper parts of the building. Not quite cells, really; but more like small suites complete with bedrooms, kitchenettes, and bathrooms.

And, of course, privacy.

Phyllis Mackle ignored her completely until they had walked through this hidden maze for nearly half an hour. Finally, the shrewd-faced Witch stopped in front of a door that looked like hundreds of others for a stretch of many, identical hallways, and turned to face Luna.

"No one seems to know why you, of all people, would want a personal interview with the Malfoy's," Madame Mackle began. "Even Mister Potter wouldn't give me a straight answer." Madame Mackle waited, but when no comment from Luna seemed forthcoming, she continued: "Despite my insistence, Mister Malfoy has agreed to let you have your interview, provided you remain on the topic at hand and do not upset them. Professionalism, Miss Lovegood; that is all I ask of you."

The blood had all but disappeared from Luna's face when Mackle had mentioned "Mister Malfoy". Her heart began to hammer, her right hand trembled a bit, and that spot on her back that always seemed to ache when it rained since her untimely visit to Malfoy Manor began to throb.

It may have been a play of light, but Phyllis Mackle's hard brown eyes appeared to soften momentarily. "Child, perhaps it would be best to have another--"

"I forgot my Dirigible Plums."

Madame Mackle blinked. "Beg pardon?"

Luna swallowed and took a deep breath. She leaned forward, gazing up into Mackle's eyes. "I forgot my Dirigible Plums. They protect against Nargels. Does the Ministry take proper pre-emptive action against them now?"

Madame Mackle took on a look that resembled a landed fish. "Well," she said slowly. "The Ministry seems to be reforming everything else at the moment. I don't...see why they wouldn't," the elder Witch finished lamely.

However, it seemed to satisfy Luna, who straightened and turned to gaze passively at the door. Mackle stared at her for a heartbeat or two before clearing her throat and opening the door. Mackle led Luna into the small foyer where she instructed her to stay. Then, Mackle disappeared down the hall and did not return for many minutes.

When she did return, finally, Draco Malfoy trailed behind her like a pale shadow.

Despite everything, Luna felt the tension drain out of her when she saw it was the son, not the father, whom the Malfoy attorney had referred to. She offered a small smile when they approached her and Draco answered with a short bow.

"Forgive me for keeping you waiting," Draco said formally. "Regretfully, my mother will not be joining us today. She is...otherwise inclined." He turned to Mackle, who glanced between them with a puzzled look, replacing the shrewd one that more often wore her face. "Thank you, Phyllis. That will be all."

Madame Mackle seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it and left when Draco did a strange, curt motion with his hand.

When the door shut behind her, Draco turned back to Luna and they regarded one another for many minutes.

Draco looked as he always used to. Manicured, expensive, handsome--in that pale, pointed sort of way. "You've been practicing," Luna remarked, her knowing eyes belying the bland smile she offered him.

And just like that, it slipped.

The lines around his mouth became evident, the smudges under his grey eyes darkened, and Draco Malfoy became a haggard, ageless thing right before her eyes. The transformation nearly took her breath away.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly and marring the otherwise impeccable and clipped presentation he wore for everyone else. "What are you _doing_ here, Luna?"

Luna took off her press pass and hung it on the door knob. Then she proceeded to wander into the living area, uninvited. She slipped off her shoes and curled up on a couch, tucking her legs beneath her. Only after her complete display of becoming as comfortable as possible, did she speak. "I didn't come for Fragmites," she confessed.

Draco rolled his eyes and followed her into the living room; however opting to stand. "You have sawdust in your hair."

Luna's eyes drifted around the room. "It gets everywhere," she agreed.

"Are you...building something?"

Luna met his eyes. "My father's house."

Draco fell quiet again, trying to read the blank look she was giving him. "I didn't know," he said finally.

Luna shrugged and examined a lapel of her blouse. "How are you, Draco Malfoy?"

His answer to that was a long time in coming as well. "Better."

Luna nodded.

After another loaded pause, Draco said: "I hear Harry Potter delivered a passionate speech at the Wizengamot."

"Yes." On your behalf. Draco knew. Even if Luna hadn't been there, they would both have known. But, as ever, Harry Potter's motivations for such things would always be his own private ones.

"And?"

"Hogwarts for you and your mother. Your father will remain in Azkaban."

Draco stared hard at her. He was startled, not so much of the news she bore, but in the way she delivered it. Uncharacteristically to the point.

Abruptly, Draco looked away, hiding whatever thoughts his eyes may have betrayed him to. "McGonagall will make you a Prefect."

Luna looked up at him then, trying to discern if there was an element of hope to that statement or not. "Perhaps."

***

_We cut, we scratched  
We rent, we slashed  
And when he opened up at last  
_

_Found a cul-de-sac  
Deep and black  
_

_Of smoke and ash _

_***_

_Someone was shaking her. She cringed, trying to fold in on herself. But the hands that rattled her were frantic, not violent. Which was new; which was different. _

_"Luna! Wake up, Luna."_

_"Get your filthy hands off her, boy!"_

_"Luna, please. Please--"_

_"Merlin help me, Malfoy, if you don't let her go--_

_Luna blinked and found herself staring into a pair of wide grey eyes, rimmed red and searching. "Luna? Luna, can you hear me?"_

_"Malfoy!"_

_"Shite, man! I will hex you into the next universe if you don't shut it," Draco hissed at Ollivander the Wandmaker, who was shackled at the other end of the cellar. The glare Draco sent Ollivander must have been something to marvel, because he quieted immediately. _

_Then he was back, searching Luna's face, shaking her so she didn't lose consciousness again. "Luna?"_

_It stank. It stank so terribly in this oubliette of piss and vomit and blood, of hex-scorched cobble and tepid water that dripped from the beamed ceiling. Luna's stomach turned and she gagged. Draco didn't move away when she doubled over. He held her up as she dry heaved until it passed and didn't let her go when she finished. She didn't want to cling to him, to dig her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and hang on, but she didn't have a choice. She was so dizzy and he was the only thing that smelled clean. _

_Draco gave her a moment before he seized her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Luna. Luna, nod if you can understand me."_

_She tried to remember how long ago it had been since they bent their wands on her, had stood and watched her writhe under the Cruciatus Curse. First, they did it simply because she was Harry Potter's friend. Then it was for information. Then it was for Ollivander to watch because they found that torturing her was the better way to get the old man to talk. And she tried to remember if he had been there. The cold, popular blond boy from Slytherin House. The one who laughed at her and encouraged his friends to throw meat pies in her hair. The one who held her now. She couldn't remember. _

_Luna nodded. Draco's pale gray eyes, so bright in the dark, searched hers again. "I've seen you disappear inside your head, Luna. At Hogwarts, here...how do you do it?"_

_Above them, the beams rattled and voices shouted. They both looked up, both for their own anxious reasons. _

_Dust fell in Luna's eyes and she blinked against the sting. Draco shook her again. "Tell me, Luna! Can you_ feel _when you go there? Does it--"_

_"Draco! Where is that boy?!"_

_Draco bit his lip and his eyes shone with fear and desperation. "Luna..." His voice cracked and became a hoarse sound pushed through a trembling mouth. "Luna, please."_

_Luna looked over at Ollivander. Ollivander stared at them both with a mixture of confusion and horror. Draco clutched tighter at her shoulders, digging his nails into the fabric of her sleeves. "Luna--"_

_Another shout sounded above them, followed by a cackling of laughter. The door to the vault above them was being unlocked. _

_"Merlin, please, Luna; please tell me. _How do you do it?!_"_

_Luna dragged her eyes back to Draco's gaunt and hollow-eyed face. He seemed older despite his fright, despite his desperation. As if his soul was growing at a more rapid pace than his body could catch up with. _

_Luna opened her mouth, but it was dry, her lips parched, and no sound came out. She swallowed and tried again. "I think of the happiest thing I can remember. And I relive it. Until it's a real feeling again."_

_Luna saw the hopeless despondency in his eyes before she had even finished. With a shuddering sob that had no tears, Draco released her and rocked back on his heels, covering his face with his hands. Hands that were long and slender and pale. The blood-stains never show on hands like that. But they were there. She knew. They both knew. _

_The vaulted door opened and a man with a deep, cruel voice called down. Draco raised his head and responded. Luna was already drifting away. She didn't care what they said. Draco glanced once more at her, and then at Ollivander. _

_The last thing Luna remembered before he rose and the blackness crept back into the edges of her vision, was that the skin below the red-rimmed, grey eyes of the boy before her were wet before he wiped at it with an irritated flick of his wrist. _

_So he did cry after all._

**To be continued...**

**Ir: **Thanks for your review! It hastened an update! After writing this story, I think that this ship is one of the surprisingly sweetest possible. I adore how they work off of one another. I hope you enjoyed the update! And as this one is rather sort, I'll go ahead and get IV up today as well. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Sweet Lysander Part One Thick as Thieves  
**Chapter Title**: IV  
**Summary**: Draco looked as he always used to. Manicured, expensive, handsome--in that pale, pointed sort of way. "You've been practicing," Luna remarked, her knowing eyes belying the bland smile she offered him. And just like that, it slipped.  
**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also do not own Natalie Merchant or her works; my quoting of her lyrics is to enrich the fanfiction but not to profit by it.  
**Pairing**: Draco/Luna; Eventual Draco/Astoria and Rolf/Luna  
**Spoiler Warning**: I base everything in this story, to the best of my ability, to strict canon facts—and also what Rowling has mentioned in interviews about life after the books for the HP characters. Draco and Luna's somewhat love story is creative license, but I believe entirely plausible.

**Alternate Warnings**: Rating T is for swearing and eventual adult sexual situations. Also contains characters dealing with serious subjects like torture, death and grief, so standard angst warnings apply.

**Author's Note**: Thank you for reading.

Sweet Lysander

**Part One**

"**Thick as Thieves****"**

**IV**

_The wicked king of parody  
Is kissing all his enemies_

_  
On the seventh day_

_  
Of the seventh week_

_***_

Xenophilius watched carefully as Luna finished packing her suitcase. She was leaving for Hogwarts. The house was finished and smelled of new paint. It wasn't as perfectly circular as it used to be, but neither of them were complaining. They were grateful it had a roof at all.

When she was done, she shouldered the knapsack that held the tent Harry had given her three months prior and smiled up at her father.

"I'll visit on holiday," she said. Xenophilius nodded and walked her to the front door.

Luna paused when Xenophilius opened it for her and turned to embrace her father. "Be good," she murmured into his wild hair.

Xenophilius pulled back and studied her face. "You look so much like your mother," he said abruptly.

Luna's arched and fair brows climbed even higher on her forehead. "Thank you, Daddy."

Xenophilius shook his head at her. "You think I'm mad. I'm not mad."

"I don't think you're mad, Daddy--"

"There's no such thing as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack." Xenophilius' chin quivered as he said it. But she had to know. He was trying to tell her--

"No," Luna breathed, backing away from her father.

"Hear this now," Xenophilius said, reaching for her as she picked up her bags again and shouldered Harry's knapsack-ed tent.

Luna shook her head defiantly, a frown fighting for dominance at the corners of her mouth. "I'll visit on holiday."

"Luna--" But she had already Disapparated.

Luna felt bothered and distracted for the rest of the day. It wasn't until the sun had set and she found herself standing in the Prefect's Quarters for Ravenclaw House, did she even realize that McGonagall had, in fact, made her Prefect. Which meant there were first years to sort. And a castle to rebuild. And N.E.W.T.s to study for.

And Draco Malfoy.

The interview hadn't lasted very long, but the article she wrote created quite a stir amongst the readers of the _Daily Prophet _and the _Quibbler_. And no one else had been able to interview the Malfoy family since.

The article had upset Dean so much, he wouldn't speak for the rest of the time he and his friends were there working on Luna's house. Ron and George took to pretending that it never happened, but Angelina and Hannah often found themselves staring at Luna in fascinated speculation. Neville never brought it up, and neither did Seamus, but they were obviously discomfited by the prospect of Luna spending nearly an hour alone with Draco Malfoy after being held hostage and tortured in his wine cellar for so long. It didn't make sense; and they all knew better than to try and have Luna explain herself.

Luna understood their confusion, to a point. If she were them, she might think there was something wrong, that perhaps it wasn't healthy, and it all might be cause for concern. But many had the same feelings for why Harry was struggling so hard at the Ministry to show compassion where many were screaming for blood. Luna understood. She knew.

It made her sad, though, that Dean didn't. They might have been friends.

The Sorting went quickly. Not many parents were willing to send their children to Hogwarts this year. She ushered the Ravenclaw first years into their common room and instructed them to get some rest before leaving for the Prefect Meeting Headmistress McGonagall had called after announcing to the students that some former students and their families would be staying at the castle for the reconstruction of Hogwarts. Their table had been set behind the faculty's table, as far away from the students as the crumbling Great Hall would allow. And Luna had noticed that Draco, most recognizable among the dozens that sat there, had looked troubled to the point of agitated. When their eyes had met, he had immediately shifted and stilled in his seat, staring straight ahead with a glazed look on his face that rivaled the one his mother wore next to him.

"...I understand that it will be a strain on all of you," McGonagall was telling the Prefects. "But I assure you, none of you will fail your N.E.W.T.s if you promise to help me with these wards. Study when you can, but our most pressing issue is guiding our guests while they work and making sure none of the students harasses them."

"Will they behave?" someone asked. Luna glanced up, recognizing Ginny Weasley, who had become Prefect for Gryffindor House.

McGonagall regarded the red-headed girl perspicaciously. "They had better," the Headmistress responded.

There was some commotion at the door to McGonagall's office. Gregory Knicks, Prefect for Hufflepuff, went to see what it was all about. When he returned, he shared a long look with Ginny before glancing at Luna and then turning to the Headmistress. "My third year lookout is saying Draco Malfoy's getting the shite beat out of him."

Luna was gone from the office before anyone had registered she was moving. McGonagall frowned at Gregory as the rest of them began to follow. "Who?"

Gregory looked at her squarely and Ginny bit her lip when he answered: "Dean Thomas."

"What is he doing here?" Astoria Greengrass demanded, Prefect for Slytherin House--at least, what was left of it.

"Volunteers," Ginny said, as they hurried after Luna. "They've been rebuilding homes all summer."

They heard the noise of it before they even arrived. However, it wasn't the usual malicious cheering acquainted with school yard fights. It was a low mix of grave whispers, miserable sobs from Narcissa Malfoy as two former Hogwarts students held her back, and muffled grunts and wet crunching noises that could only be the sound of Dean's fists landing on Draco's body with solid impact. Draco wasn't even fighting back or attempting to protect his vulnerable mid-section by curling in on himself. It was almost as if he thought he deserved it, or knew it was a long time in coming and expected every blow.

Luna stood stock still, watching for a moment along with hundreds of other students, before she raised her chin, and her voice, and shouted: "There is no such thing as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

The astonishing confession seemed to freeze everything on the spot, even Dean's next blow, his fist hanging in the air, mid-strike, as everyone shifted to stare at Luna. She then turned to where Narcissa was being held and pointed. "Let her go."

Immediately, Narcissa was released and she pushed her way through the crowd to Draco's side, shoving Dean away and attempting to embrace her son with all the maternal instinct to protect she could possibly muster. Draco shrugged her off and tried to stand. He stumbled once, but on the second try, was able to get his feet under him. The former Slytherin was a bloody mess, and his handsome face was malformed with bruises purpling on his pale skin and swelling under his eyes. His arm hung awkwardly at his side and he hissed through his teeth when he moved it, holding it to his chest with his other hand.

Draco turned to Dean and stared at him in silence for many minutes before glancing at Luna. Almost immediately, the Malfoy and Black scion averted his gaze. He made a small movement with his head and his mother rose and followed him through the crowd, where Ginny took it upon herself to chaperone them to Madam Pomfrey.

All the while, Headmistress McGonagall gazed thoughtfully at Luna Lovegood.

***

_The tyrant's voice is softer now_

_But just for one forgiving hour_

_  
Before the rise of his  
Iron fist again _

_***_

Luna visited the medical ward during the witching hours of the following morning, after she had completed her shift of scouring the halls for mischievous students. Draco was alone, seemingly sleeping in one of the beds amongst a row of a dozen others. She approached the foot of his bed and he opened his eyes when she stopped at the rail.

He already looked better, after a few hours of Madam Pomfrey's care. The swelling in his face had all but disappeared and the bruises were fading. His right arm was fixed in a cast as the bone-mending potion he'd consumed worked its magic.

His gray eyes were tired. Luna considered it something to wonder at, that she could always see his eyes in the dark.

"I never thought I'd ever be in this bloody room again," Draco murmured.

The corner of Luna's mouth quirked, and she almost looked amused. She waited for Draco to gesture to her before sitting on the edge of the bed. She studied his face again, looking for signs of discomfort.

"Oh, stop it," Draco muttered. "I'm fine."

"It's not like you to not complain."

Draco did not respond to that. Only shrugged and looked away. "I think I might be seeing things."

Luna cocked her head to one side. "Like what?"

"Demons," he said, looking back at her. "Skinless ones. They were pulling the students up to the castle."

Luna smiled genuinely at him as realization dawned on her. "Not demons, Draco."

Draco gave her a quizzical look and sat up. His voice was barely a whisper when he said: "You see them too?"

Luna nodded, her grin growing wider.

"The ones pulling the carriages?"

Luna nodded again. "Harry can see them too. Many can, nowadays." Luna's smile faded a bit. "Come with me," she said, and held out her hand.

Draco looked at the offered hand, a fair, small thing in the dark. He didn't take it but swung his legs over the side of the bed anyway, grimacing as he did so. Luna stood and waited patiently for Draco as he made it on his feet.

Draco followed her through the castle, quiet now in the small hours of the morning. And then, they were out of the castle and walking towards the Forbidden Forest.

"Luna," Draco began. "I don't think--"

Luna turned to him and placed her pointer finger over her lips, indicating for him to be quiet. She walked them right up to the edge of the forest before letting out a low whistle. She turned to Draco, gesturing with her hand as a family of them made their wary approach. "Thestrals."

She watched as a young curious one approached the Pureblood scion. Draco made a face that twisted in apprehension when the colt's beak nudged his good hand, which Draco promptly snatched away. In answer, the colt shook out its wings and looked expectantly at Luna.

Luna shook her head at the young Thestral and smiled fondly as it returned to its parents. "Usually, I bring them food," Luna explained softly.

Draco sent her a look that was an interesting mix of incredulity and amusement. "It wanted food? --What are they again?"

"Yes. Thestrals." She turned to face him and her eyes turned soft. "A person can only see them if they have seen death."

A number of emotions flickered across Draco's face before he finally bent his head, staring at the ground and hiding his eyes behind a fall of shimmering white-blond hair.

Soon after, Luna led them both back inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Sweet Lysander Part One Thick as Thieves  
**Chapter Title**: V  
**Summary**: Draco looked as he always used to. Manicured, expensive, handsome--in that pale, pointed sort of way. "You've been practicing," Luna remarked, her knowing eyes belying the bland smile she offered him. And just like that, it slipped.  
**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also do not own Natalie Merchant or her works; my quoting of her lyrics is to enrich the fanfiction but not to profit by it.  
**Pairing**: Draco/Luna; Eventual Draco/Astoria and Rolf/Luna  
**Spoiler Warning**: I base everything in this story, to the best of my ability, to strict canon facts—and also what Rowling has mentioned in interviews about life after the books for the HP characters. Draco and Luna's somewhat love story is creative license, but I believe entirely plausible.

**Alternate Warnings**: Rating T is for swearing and eventual adult sexual situations. Also contains characters dealing with serious subjects like torture, death and grief, so standard angst warnings apply.

**Author's Note**: Thank you for reading.

Sweet Lysander

**Part One**

"**Thick as Thieves****"**

**V**

"I find it exceptionally difficult to un-believe something. I wonder, sometimes, if it is an overexposure to Dirigible Plums that has this effect on me.

"When I was younger, everything my father said was true. And when he negated his belief to me about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, perplexed though I was, I continued to believe; even though my faith in my father's word, I'll admit, had been fairly dampened.

"How can I say that there is no such thing as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack when I have not, in fact, disproved it to be true? I did, once; and I regret it to this very day. Eventually, I have found that there is no possible way to deduce or prove, one way or another if a Crumple-Horned Snorkack does or does not exist. That being said, of course, I cannot, in good judgment, say that it doesn't. But, I fear, one day I will have to again. And I rue that day.

"Who proves that things exist or do not anyway? Those who observe things to be true.

"I can have incredible faith that Moon Frogs and Blibbering Humdingers exist, but without observing it to be true, I cannot say that it is factual. For any narrow-minded Wizard can claim it isn't factual simply because it has yet to be observed. Lazy of them, I think; but too common to enroll otherwise, I fear.

"I think this is why, in particular, I strove to become a naturalist. If I could observe the natural habitat of Umgubular Slashkilter or watch the breeding process of an Acquavirius Maggot, then it would be factual, and no one could gainsay it. Because what is fact than something observed to be true?

"No, I cannot so easily un-believe something. And even if Dirigible Plums are the cause of this, I cannot claim to have any desire to ridding myself with the capacity to accept the extraordinary. I think, in part, it is what makes me what I am. Whatever that may be.

"I gave Draco Malfoy a locket made of a Dirigible Plum once. He wears it around his neck, tucked safely under his shirt. Perhaps it is why he can look at me straight-faced when so many others cannot help but laugh."

~Excerpt from the Diary of Luna Lovegood.

***

_I've come tonight  
I've come to know_

_  
The way we are  
The way we'll go  
_

***

Dean Thomas had been asked to not return to Hogwarts grounds for the remainder of that year. It angered Draco, though he couldn't explain why. It wasn't that he particularly liked getting roughed up. Just that...there seemed to be something a bit unfair about forcing Dean to leave while he and his mother remained. It was yet another thing Draco was likely to feel guilty about for the remainder of his miserable life.

They never bothered to give Draco a wand. Better leave him to do it manually, they whispered. Serves him right, after all those things he did to those Muggles. Serves him right.

Draco scowled as he perspired under this heavy load and that lifted bundle of ruin. It all became a monotonous blur of redundant, often painful, labor. Lift this, move that, ignore the whispers, they can't hate you forever, shower, sleep, and back at it the next day.

His traitorous wand was still probably casting spells for Harry Potter. Draco's lip curled, thinking of the Gryffindor Wonder Boy, but his venomous thoughts had no depth; only the residual hunger to feel contempt for someone. Anyone.

Draco Malfoy couldn't even hate properly anymore. He felt like he lost the core of himself sometime last year, and what was left was nothing but an empty, walking, talking shell. He didn't even look like himself anymore. His life, his reflection, everything he thought he knew was all becoming this dreamy blur of misery.

Ironically, the only time he felt like he was awake, alive inside of himself, was when he spotted Luna Lovegood.

Luna hushing overly-exuberant first-years during McGonagall's supper speeches. Luna studying in the library. Luna gazing at nothing. Luna dancing by herself in the afternoon sun. Luna. She was mad, that one.

And Draco was eternally grateful that he hadn't made her that way; she had already been spacey, distant, odd. But what really floored him, and set him on edge, and, blast it all, made him_ think _about things he really, really didn't want to think about, was when she would turn and smile at him.

A friendly smile, a companionable smile; the sort that she shared with Ginny Weasley. A smile that shouldn't be reserved for him. And he couldn't understand it. Ever since she had shown up at the Ministry and, in her way, told Draco she held him responsible for the obliteration of her father's house, he was expecting her to finally wake up and hate him. It might have been true, but Draco was never sure. It wasn't the first time he'd been blamed for something he knew nothing about. It was all the same to him now.

And he might have been able to handle that, her despising him. It would have felt more normal, more _right_, than this relentless compassion she sent his way with kind smiles and understanding eyes.

It might have been a silent offer of friendship; and that terrified Draco. He couldn't handle that responsibility...never had been able to at all. Vincent Crabbe had once acted as a friend to him, and it had gotten him killed for it. Draco would dream of fire and ghostly, blaming stares from Crabbe, Dumbledore, and Snape, and he would wake remembering what became of people who befriended him. Smoke and ash. A death-plummet from a tower. The deep, black void after learning that Voldemort had disposed of his godfather.

When all was said and done, it would profit no one. Hogwarts would soon be rebuilt and the Malfoy Trials would begin in December. Soon, he'd join his father in Azkaban and someone would kill him. Some angry Death Eater who had learned what his mother had done for Harry Potter. Draco was no fool. He knew how it would play out in the end.

All of this hiding out at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was simply delaying the inevitable. It was a kind, generous thing for Potter to suggest; but in the end, Potter's noble intentions wouldn't matter. Draco would be convicted of hate-crimes, torture, and collaboration, and he would be sent to Azkaban where he would die. And befriending Luna Lovegood wouldn't change that. It wouldn't protect his mother. It wouldn't bring back Crabbe or his godfather or the Headmaster he had nearly murdered, so what was the point?

And what could she possibly get out of it? Draco surmised that it probably made perfect sense, as far as her logic went. But Draco had long since given up on trying to understand her. She was a strange, albeit kind girl. She was also an exceptionally resilient and powerful Witch. She emerged from every battle with nothing but mere scratches, when hardened Wizards had died painful deaths. Draco remembered how utterly _bored_ she seemed when he and other members of the Inquisitorial Squad had captured her and fellow members of the DA for Dolores Umbridge. And it had nothing to do with being smug or pompous, she really just _didn't care_. And it was that moment, those years ago, when Draco had first taken notice of Luna Lovegood.

And later, when Luna had been held hostage in his basement while his parents and Voldemort's goons tried to blackmail her father, she often wore the same expression. It was beneath her, it seemed, to worry at such trivial matters as being a captive to the Dark Lord. She had Wrackspurts to consider.

Draco prided himself on his skill for Occlumency. His Aunt Bellatrix and godfather had taught him themselves, and they had been masters at it. But that was nothing compared to whatever magic Luna owned that allowed her to completely separate herself from what was going on around her. And Draco envied that quality so much until he had, out of desperation, sought her out to learn the trick of it himself. If he didn't have to _think_ about what he was doing, then maybe it wouldn't be as real to him. It could be just some distant memory. And he would never have to come to terms with it.

In a way, Luna eventually taught him. It may have saved his sanity, if not his soul. Perhaps that was why he felt something brighten whenever his eyes found her in a crowded room, and he felt a rush of swooning relief whenever she glanced at him and smiled. Something inside of him was still attached to her. And he didn't like it.

Because, Draco was sure, if he gave in, if he let himself get close to this girl, he might shatter her forever; like a glass menagerie that's been strained too often. Draco hadn't been able to discern the exact cause of it yet, but he didn't miss the strain behind her smiles and the sadness hidden in her big blue eyes.

They were both standing on the edge of something, and Draco didn't want to be the one to push her over. He had enough guilt to last two lifetimes.

***

_Come to measure this  
The width of the wide abyss _

_***_

Whatever spell they hit him with knocked the wind right out of him, and he went sprawling across the otherwise deserted hall. He knew better, but he had wanted, just for a few minutes, to be alone with his thoughts. So Draco had taken another route, one less commonly used, to the Great Hall for the midday meal.

But he knew better, and he was caught alone. He was hit again and he gasped in pain; it could have been worse, but Draco could tell that these were students using amateur spells. However, even amateur spells could do damage if--

And then pain blossomed in his chest like a blooming flower of agony, spreading to the tips of his fingers and shooting down the length of his spine. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his entire body went rigid and arched off the floor; and panic nearly choked him as he thought, frantically, that maybe these amateur students had stumbled on the_ Sectumsempra..._

And then it was over, as quickly as it began. The moment Draco registered the shift in energy, the pause in cast curses, he scrambled towards the nearest wall, finally gaining the opportunity to look at the faces of his attackers.

He had been correct in his prior assessment, they were young. One Hufflepuff, who looked positively terrified, and two Slytherin students. Irony had always humored Draco Malfoy, so he smirked at them. But they weren't looking at him anyway. Draco's eyes flickered and he caught his breath.

`Luna.

When Draco had been younger, before Hogwarts and Harry Potter and You-Know-Who, before all of that, there was a time when he only feared one thing. His father scowled constantly, so he was used to that, used to his contemptuous eyes, accustomed to the fact that he would never be quite enough for the old man. However, his mother, tall and fair and beautiful, rarely smiled, but almost never frowned. And there was a certain striking power his mother held when she _did_ frown. It felt like everything in the world was turned inside out and nothing would be quite right again. To his five-year-old self, Mother frowning at him was the worst thing he could possibly imagine. Because disappointing her made him feel two inches tall.

Luna was giving these three students that same look. She didn't have to say a word; just the utter _disappointment _in her gaze was enough to stop them in their tracks and cause them to instantly regret the past five minutes of their life. One look, one magnificent power.

She murmured something about subtracted points from both their Houses and the students disappeared down the hall, looking mournful and completely dejected. Then, she was by his side, shining a _Lumos_'d wand in his eyes and checking his pulse. Draco rolled his eyes, scowled, and shrank back from her. "Leave it, Lovegood. I'm fine."

But then, she_ frowned _at him and he held still, staring over her shoulder and pressing his lips into a thin line. Her dirty-blonde hair was feather soft against his cheek as she bent over him, checking the skin of his throat for curse-burns. She smelled nice. Like...pine and...She was saying something to him. "What?"

Luna had rocked back on her heels and was gazing at him serenely, her smile patient and only slightly amused. Why did he always get the impression that she was laughing at him?

"Your heartbeat is stabilizing, and the burns are minimal," she said slowly, as if she was repeating herself. "We can forget this, or you can report the incident to Madam Pomfrey."

Draco stood stiffly, wincing only a little. "I'm fine," he repeated.

Luna stood as well and made a point of stepping into stride beside him as they made their way towards the Great Hall. "A lot of people resent you, Draco Malfoy."

Draco snorted. "Obviously."

"You remind me of Snape."

Draco shot her a glare but she ignored it.

"Why don't you fight back?" Luna asked, her gaze fixed somewhere ahead of them.

Draco's lips twisted as he weighed his words. "They'll forget soon enough. Better to get it out of their system."

"The defeated always remember," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Draco sighed. "And the cowards will live forever. What are you on about, Lovegood? You've got to stop doing this!"

Luna paused in front of a window and gazed out through the stained glass. Despite the riot of color, it was raining out. "Why?"

Going against his better judgment, he stopped with her and followed her gaze, the dreary grey world outside mirroring the hue of his eyes. "I'm not worth you falling out of favor with the Wizarding World."

She looked at him then, her fair brows arched slightly higher than usual, her gaze quizzical. "When had I become...'in favor'?"

Draco felt exasperated. He wanted to shake this lunacy out of her. It's not safe, he wanted to scream at her. It's not safe to...to... "I want to do one good thing," he blurted instead. "Before they send me to Azkaban; before I die. And if that means rejecting you and whatever truce you seem to be offering, then...then so be it."

Her brows climbed even higher on her forehead. "I wasn't aware I was offering you a truce, Draco Malfoy."

Draco drew his brows together in a severe frown and clenched his fists to his sides as he tried to reign in a temper he hadn't felt in a long, long time. "Then what, pray tell, is your goddamn point?" he bit out.

Luna cocked her head to one side, regarding him calmly. "Come with me," she said abruptly, turning on her heel and walking pointedly in the opposite direction. Despite his reservations, and this little voice inside his head telling him it probably wasn't a good idea, Draco followed.

He did, however, balk stubbornly when he realized she was leading him outside. "Luna! It's_ pouring!_"

She was already soaked when she turned back to beckon him on, her breath coming in shaky puffs of white as she shivered in the cold, early winter rain.

Draco shook his head fervently, gaping at her incredulously. "No, Luna! You're completely mad, you know that?! Get back in here before you get sick!"

Luna laughed, and it was such a free, unfettered sound that it made Draco pause.

"Is rain bad?" Luna called.

Draco hesitated. "No," he answered.

"And what is the opposite of bad?" she shouted back, a note of delight in her voice that almost made Draco smile. She really was utterly crazy, wasn't she?

"Good," Draco answered, fighting the corner of his mouth to stay down.

"Well then," she called, triumphant, as if she had just won some incredible battle of wits. "Come out!"

Draco couldn't fathom her logic, but she trusted him once, so the least he could do was return the favor. The last time she had beckoned him outside, she'd introduced him to a family of Thestrals, and that hadn't been so bad. He stepped out into the biting cold and shuddered as the rain soaked him through and stole his breath away. A quick jog, and he had caught up with her. They walked swiftly down to the lake, which was a blur of gray and silver as the rain droplets pounded the surface relentlessly.

Suddenly, Luna began to twirl, laughing loudly and splaying her arms wide. Draco dodged to avoid her, nearly stumbling in the freezing mud because his limbs were shivering so violently.

Draco stared at here, words escaping him. Finally, he said: "What are you _doing?_"

"Is it bad to dance, Draco Malfoy?" she asked in a laughing, sing-song voice.

Draco deadpanned, biting his lip. "You must be joking."

But, no; Luna continued to twirl and jump, faster and faster. Until, driven by an impulse and quite abruptly, Draco caught her by the waist and led her into a foxtrot. Luna was surprised, which pleased Draco, and she wore the expression awkwardly on her face. Draco did laugh then, and led her into a fast spin. When she returned, Luna was laughing again. The rain was freezing and the gusts were bitter, but even more hazardous, was the slippery mud that they danced upon. Soon, inevitably, they slipped and fell.

And Draco never thought that he would ever laugh falling into mud. The spell shattered around them when Draco realized he had toppled onto Luna, and was immediately back on his feet, pulling Luna with him, who looked perplexed at Draco's panic-stricken expression.

"Merlin, Luna, did I hurt you?" Draco released her and went to touch her face, her shoulder, her arm, but snatched his hand away every time it came too close to her skin. "Are you okay? Luna?"

_"Luna! Wake up, Luna."_

_"Get your filthy hands off her, boy!"_

_"Luna, please. Please--"_

_"Merlin help me, Malfoy, if you don't let her go--_

"Luna, please, Merlin, I'm so sorry. It was an accident, I didn't mean--"

"I'm fine." Luna had ventured closer to him, looking with concerned blue eyes up into his face, trying to discern some hidden riddle there. "I'm really okay."

Draco blinked and sucked in a shaky breath.

"I'm wet, and quite cold," Luna continued, her eyes searching his. "But I'm alright."

Draco nodded stiffly and backed up several steps, cursing himself for making his discomfort so obvious.

"I think I'll go in for some pudding," Luna went on to say, with mud in her hair and rain dripping down her face. Luna held out her hand. "Do you like pudding, Draco Malfoy?"

Draco stared down at the offered hand. Finally, he dragged his eyes back up to her face. He gazed at her for a long time. Her big blue eyes, her small, dreamy smile, her long flaxen hair. He wondered when he had begun to think she was pretty.

He didn't take her hand and she eventually let it drop. But before she could turn away, he said: "Yes; I do."

They walked relatively side by side back up to the castle. Before they reached the courtyard, Luna whispered: "You did your one good thing, Draco Malfoy. Is it enough?"

Draco didn't answer her; but then, he didn't really think she expected him to.

And, no; he didn't think it was.

**To be continued...**

**Pinkrice: **Thanks so much for your reviews! I adore and appreciate them!


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: Sweet Lysander Part One Thick as Thieves  
**Chapter Title**: VI  
**Summary**: Draco looked as he always used to. Manicured, expensive, handsome--in that pale, pointed sort of way. "You've been practicing," Luna remarked, her knowing eyes belying the bland smile she offered him. And just like that, it slipped.  
**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also do not own Natalie Merchant or her works; my quoting of her lyrics is to enrich the fanfiction but not to profit by it.  
**Pairing**: Draco/Luna; Eventual Draco/Astoria and Rolf/Luna  
**Spoiler Warning**: I base everything in this story, to the best of my ability, to strict canon facts—and also what Rowling has mentioned in interviews about life after the books for the HP characters. Draco and Luna's somewhat love story is creative license, but I believe entirely plausible.

**Alternate Warnings**: Rating T is for swearing and eventual adult sexual situations. Also contains characters dealing with serious subjects like torture, death and grief, so standard angst warnings apply.

**Author's Note**: Thank you for reading.

Sweet Lysander

**Part One**

"**Thick as Thieves****"**

**VI**

_Draco Malfoy found that he hated the color purple. _

_"The Dark Lord's returning," someone whispered behind him. Might have been his mother. Might have been his aunt. He cared less and less these days. Thorfinn Rowle's eyes had been purple. The deep, bright, sparkling kind that made you think of amethyst._

_The walls of the foyer in his home were purple too. The flickering light cast by the fireplace looked like wraiths. He wondered if one of them was Charity Burbage. He wondered if one of them was Dumbledore. _

...I think of the happiest thing I can remember. And I relive it. Until it's a real feeling again...

_He'd tumbled those words around in his head since Christmas Holiday, when Travers had first brought her here. It was the first day of Easter Holiday, and still he had yet to find a single happy memory strong enough to disappear inside his head with. Luna Lovegood was mocking him. Yet, he didn't have the energy to hate her for it. _

_"How long do we have?" his father hissed from near the fireplace. _

_"...We don't. He's here."_

_Draco would like to say he didn't shudder and cringe as Lord Voldemort swept into the room in a swirl of black robes; but, of course, if he did he'd be a liar as well as a coward. _

_Lord Voldemort let out an ear-splitting shriek. He whirled about and paced the room like an angry tiger. Everyone was silent, waiting. Unfortunately, Draco happened to be standing in the middle of the room, which eventually caught Lord Voldemort's attention. Suddenly, the Dark Lord's waxen, snake-like face was inches from Draco's. To his credit, Draco remained still, his gray eyes carefully averted, his back straight. _

_"Home for the holidays, is it?" Voldemort grated rhetorically. _

_"Yes, my lord," Draco murmured anyway. _

_Voldemort laughed. Draco could positively feel his mother's apprehension behind him. _

_"You're doing well at Hogwarts," the Dark Lord appraised. _

_"As my lord commands," Draco answered hollowly. _

_"Hmmm." Voldemort straightened, regarding him thoughtfully. "Draco," Voldemort hissed abruptly. "What do you know about the Elder Wand?"_

_Draco fought the urge to look him in the eye. "Nothing. Forgive me, my lord."_

_Voldemort grunted. "Ignorance can never be forgiven, __little __Death Eater__. Only rectified. Come with me." _

_Amidst the ethereal swirl of his black robes, Lord Voldemort began to head down to the cellar. Draco felt sick and, though he heard his mother's stifled moan of objection, he followed. For you, Mother, I will do anything he asks. _

_Luna was still there. She eyed them as they descended, but Voldemort's gaze was fixed on the old man with the yellow skin and bulging eyes, the tremulous Ollivander the Wandmaker. _

_"Wandmaker," Voldemort began, sounding almost pleasant. "Where is it now?"_

_Draco's hand began to shake and nausea burst against the back of his throat. He took in a deep breath and concentrated. _

Legilimens..._his mind whispered. _Luna? _Behind him, she stirred, lifting her gaze towards him. _Luna, don't move. Just listen. That thing you do. That thing where you disappear inside your head...do it now.

_Ollivander's great, bulging eyes flickered between Voldemort and Draco. The old man positively shivered in fear. The Dark Lord repeated his question. _

Do it now, Luna. You don't...you don't want to be here right now.

_Voldemort straightened, and motioned to Draco. "On the girl, Draco, if you please. It did work so well last time." _

_Ollivander lunged forward but Voldemort flung him back with a lazy flick of his wand. "No! No, please! I don't know where it is!"_

_Draco turned to Luna, fighting to keep his hand steady as he raised it to her. She was staring at him, blue eyes wide with fear...and something else Draco couldn't name. _

Do it now, Luna!

_Luna lifted her chin, but kept her gaze trained on him. _

Do it now!

_Luna blinked slowly, looking almost sad as she kept her eyes focused on his face. "Only if you do," she whispered. _

_Voldemort turned, Draco bit his lip, something shattered inside of him, and he shouted: "_Crucio_!"_

_Her screams tore through the cellar, drowning out any answer Ollivander might have given. _

_***_

It wasn't until Luna had gone home for the Winter Holidays that Draco even took note of Astoria Greengrass. For whatever reason, the Slytherin Prefect hadn't gone home for the holiday break and was one of the few students still loitering Hogwarts Castle as Draco and the dozen or so others who had been sent here by the Ministry continued their "community service".

It was the day after Christmas that Draco caught her making eyes at him. And, really, it was the eyes that made him look twice, when he had become so talented at ignoring everyone around him. A startling dark blue hue rimmed with long, thick black lashes. Everything else contrasted severely. Astoria Greengrass was pale, prettily freckled, and had a wealth of strawberry blonde hair that was more red than flaxen. The Greengrass family had always been notorious for breeding beautiful daughters, and this one was no exception. Even Daphne, Astoria's elder sister, who had studied at Hogwarts during the same years Draco had, was something to behold. Of course, Pansy Parkinson and her simpering had always made it somewhat difficult to notice, but it was a known fact.

However, while Daphne's eyes had been cat-shaped and bright green, Astoria's looked like amused, sapphire orbs. A large enough difference to set this young girl apart from her sisters and cousins; and what was more, she knew it.

Draco was in the Great Hall, accepting a glass of cool water before heading back to Professor Milf's classroom, where Draco had been painting walls and re-staining hex-scorched furniture when Astoria finally approached him. His robes were wrapped around his waist and his shirt was damp with perspiration. Once, he might have been mortified to show up in the Great Hall as disheveled and unkempt as he was today, but after five months of hard labor and malicious favor from every student in the castle, Draco was hard pressed to really give a shit.

Astoria didn't quite smile, and her smile wasn't quite coy; and Draco suddenly found himself liking that about her. She wasn't humble, but she didn't wear her pride like a shield either. She knew what she was and she didn't feel the need to prove it. Her offer was plain, but Draco would have to prove himself worthy of it.

A Pureblood game; one of silent courtship. Draco recognized it immediately. It was in the air between them, in the knowledge of her sapphire, laughing eyes, in the seriousness of her slightly up-turned mouth. Draco watched her approach as he quietly thanked the House Elf who had brought him water. This girl was different from her sister in more ways than just her eyes. Astoria sought challenge, when Daphne had been placated by the monotonous drone of the _normal_.

A dangerous game, for Astoria to seek a challenge with Draco Malfoy. He wished he could share her sense of adventure.

Astoria's eyes flickered when the House Elf backed away and popped from the room. She held out a folded piece of parchment, sealed with the Parkinson emblem. "Pansy asked me to give this to you."

Draco looked down at the letter held in her hand. He could smell lavender from where he stood, and he tried not to gag. Pansy had always smelled of lavender, overwhelmingly so. He hadn't spoken to her since she had expressed contempt for his parents when they had fallen from Voldemort's high regard.

Lazily, and with heavy-lidded eyes, he eventually dragged his gaze away from the letter she held out and back to her face. Her eyes were considering his reaction. Finally, she set the letter down on the table next to him. Before she turned away, he caught her eye and held it. Slowly, deliberately, he reached down with his fingers and swept them over the folded parchment, without actually touching the letter. Pansy's message to him caught fire in a blaze of green magic. Draco controlled it carefully, and soon, there was nothing left but a small pile of ash.

When he straightened, Astoria lifted her chin and there was an impressed gleam in her midnight, blue eyes. He left her then, and headed back to Professor Milf's office, contemplating his decision.

Astoria Greengrass was the first person he had shared the secret with that Draco Malfoy can, in fact, perform wandless magic as well as nonverbal spells.

Later that week, in the room that he and his mother shared in Hogwarts Castle, Narcissa Malfoy spoke to her son for the first time since he disrespectfully shook her off after the incident with Dean Thomas.

"Whatever you're doing with that Lovegood girl," came her unexpected and cool voice. "It's working."

Draco paused halfway to the chest of drawers where he was keeping his clothes. He had just returned from the showers and was readying himself for bed. Draco turned to stare at his mother, who sat poised at the edge of her bed. "How do you mean?" Draco asked belatedly.

"Apparently, she called for a sentence of 'Time Served' at the Wizengamot," she replied, glancing at him sideways with her dark eyes.

Draco narrowed his own eyes, the silver in them flashing angrily. "For whom?" he demanded.

Narcissa regarded her son coolly. "For us."

Draco's mouth fell open, which, at a sharp look from his mother, he closed again almost immediately. "I didn't ask her to," he said finally.

Narcissa looked away and stared at the far wall.

"I'm not using her," Draco said with more force. "I didn't even know she was called to testify."

Narcissa continued to ignore him. They both really were masters at pretending others at close capacity didn't exist. Draco couldn't tell if she was disappointed or if she approved, and it was infuriating him.

"I won't use her," Draco grated, balling his fists at his sides. "Not for this."

Narcissa looked at him then, though her expression was unreadable. "For what, then?"

Draco blinked, at a loss. "Nothing, Mother. For nothing. I'm _not _using her."

The lines around Narcissa's mouth tightened. "Then why, Draco? Why are you _befriending_ her?"

Draco opened his mouth, but no answer was forthcoming. He took to examining his hands. "What about Father?" Draco asked finally, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don't know." Narcissa's reply was just as quiet. "We may have waited too long to defect."

To that, Draco had no reply.

***

_I come to you in restless sleep  
Where all your dreams turn bitter-sweet_

_***  
_

Later that night, Draco tossed and turned in his bed; visions of Fiendfyre and death and nightmarish, torture-wrought screams attacking his dreams with venomous delight.

_Legilimens..._

Even in his sleep, he fought it. But the white hare won out anyway; and suddenly the screams quieted and all his mind's eye could see was the comforting shadow of the bluish-white Patronus.

Draco woke with a start, sitting straight up.

Luna was back.

Before he fully registered what he was doing, Draco found himself slinking down the dark halls of Hogwarts Castle. His footfalls were quick and silent; and soon, he was there: The Ravenclaw House.

The woman eyed him suspiciously, but seemed to have been expecting him because the door swung open without so much as a comment, much less a riddle. Draco entered, feeling suddenly nervous. If he was caught...

The common room was dark and empty. Draco knew that the students out on holiday wouldn't return for another couple of days. Draco turned in a circle, trying to familiarize himself in the dark. If this was anything like Slytherin House...then the Prefect's Quarters would be this way. Draco angled right and kept walking until he felt a slight breeze on his cheek. It was bitter cold, coming from some unseen window that was no doubt left ajar.

He followed it until he found himself in another room. He found the window that was open and crossed the threshold to close it. When he had it locked in place he turned--and froze.

Luna sat on the far corner of her bed in a long, white cotton flannel dress, her thick blond hair wild and spilling over the sheets. Her eyes were wide and shining in the dark and her soft mouth was unsmiling.

Slowly, she pulled the sheets back and waited. With a sigh of confused surrender, Draco moved forward and crept onto the bed with her. Together, they laid down, their eyes trained on the other's; and Draco was exceptionally careful not to touch her.

Luna folded her hands under her head and smiled.

Draco found himself smiling slightly in return. "Time Served?" he asked softly. "This hardly seems like a punishment to me."

Luna's grin turned cheeky before she took on a look of utmost severity. "They say," she whispered. "In Ireland, there are two types of Leprechauns."

Draco, stifling his laughter, attempted to look back at her with the seriousness she was regarding him with. "Do they, now?"

Luna nodded, her blue eyes twinkling. "Yes. One makes shoes and collects gold. This Leprechaun is very shrewd and business-oriented. The other, is rowdy and mischievous; he likes to steal things that do not belong to him and makes trouble for humans. Both like, very much, to drink alcohol. Daddy thinks they brew it themselves."

Draco peered at her. "All...right?"

Luna was gazing back at him with a peculiar look on her face. Her large blue eyes shining with some meaning Draco couldn't decipher. "I think they're the same creature," she said bluntly. "They just act differently under varying amounts of alcohol."

Draco frowned and shifted so he could stare at the ceiling and not her intense gaze. "So, what is that? A metaphor?"

Luna didn't answer and Draco continued to stare at the ceiling, listening as her breathing deepened and evened out. When he finally looked back at her, she was asleep. Draco reached out with the crook of one slender finger and pushed a wavy lock of hair out her face. Draco thought she looked like an angel. And, for the first time, the thought didn't bother him at all.

Draco settled back against the pillows, gazing fondly at the strange girl that had offered her friendship to him in the darkest trial of his life. "You make me unnaturally happy, Luna Lovegood," he whispered.

Draco finally drifted back to sleep, and his dreams were pleasant--albeit odd--filled with white hares and drunken Leprechauns. When he woke, as the first silvery rays of the dawning, winter sun shone through the window, Draco found himself wrapped safely in Luna's arms. His head rested in the crook of her arm, and her hand hung limply in his hair, as if she'd fallen asleep stroking it.

He left before she woke, feeling more rested and at peace than he had in over two years.


End file.
